


The Third T

by Bwg71



Category: Homeland
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bwg71/pseuds/Bwg71
Summary: Just a bit of silly post festive season silliness.... Written for HomemadeLemonade, for the third t,  and also Koala, inspired by her au where they get out and settle on the coast in Australia...You know I'm no writer....  Just some domestic fluff created for my own amusement, really.Thanks HML for your wonderful stories and nice chats.... And thanks KtB for setting up the LJ comm, our silly au imaginings that entertain me, and your wonderful stories....





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HomemadeLemonade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomemadeLemonade/gifts), [koalathebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/gifts).



'Carrie, what the fucking fuck is that? It's a mess!' Quinn growls sexily (Of course. Since the CF in Berlin, the sarin and the effects of the stroke on his speech, he can only speak that way. But who's complaining?) The screen door to the verandah slams, he leans his surfboard on the wall, shakes water droplets from his spectacular hair game and then bends down to remove the size 13 (nicely laced you will be pleased to note) boots from his huge feet.

Sprinkling slivered almonds atop the completed layers of fruit, jam sponge, custard, cream and different coloured jellies, and glancing appreciatively at his arse, Carrie replies, 'It's trifle, Quinn. Eileen brought one to the surf club Christmas party last weekend. It was delicious, so I asked her for the recipe. But apparently, you don't need a recipe*, you just...'

Quinn interrupts with a snort, and kisses her firmly on the lips. (He feels cold and fresh, and smells like the ocean, and Carrie snuggles in.) 'I can't possibly see how THAT could have been produced by following any recipe, Carrie' Quinn growls again and directs his confused but steely eyed stare to the strange concoction in the huge glass bowl- 'Everything's just chucked in together. Looks like a real clusterfuck, Carrie.'

They separate from their hug and Carrie starts sprinkling coconut. 'Jesus, Quinn. Stop being such a food snob. Trifle is utterly delicious. There's actually an underlying order and it's important that you get that right. It just LOOKS messy...'

Quinn raises an eyebrow and gives her that old familiar 'wtf' look. You know. The hot one.

Satisfied with the amount of shredded coconut distributed across the jelly and cream, Carrie tears off a length of cling wrap and snugly covers the bowl. She tries to explain. 'Look. It's like jazz, Quinn. Appears to be a mess, no order, kinda crazy. (Like me) But actually, all the bits go together in just the right order, at just the right time, in just the right amounts.... and then you get delicious, sweet perfection. (Like you) Please would you just trust me on this, Quinn.'

'Alright, whatever you need Carrie. Let's dig in, I'm starving. That tuna I had for lunch was just not enough...'

Carrie lightly smacks his now steady hand away from the bowl. 'Uh uh. Gotta let the alcohol soak right in. Anyway, This is for tomorrow's Christmas lunch with Andrew and his wife, you didn't forget they were coming did you?'

'No way, this memory is perfect now! No more blackouts or meltdowns for this puppy!'

Carrie opens the fridge door and frowns her trademark frown at the already crammed interior, loaded up with festive foods and drinks. 'I'm looking so forward to seeing them. It's such a relief that he finally figured out what the third T was: 'trifle' !!!! He's finally been able to get some closure on that.'

She rummages in the fridge, rearranging Christmas lunch supplies, wine, beer, prawns, scallops, and a ham, to make room for the huge bowl.

Quinn watches her arse appreciatively as she rummages and then places (Tetris style) the gigantic glass bowl in the space she has made. 'Carrie, that thing is huge.' (The trifle, NOT arse.) 'Do we really need such a big trifle? We also have pavlova, remember. And apricot rum balls. And chocolate coated almonds. How many desserts does one need for Christmas lunch?'

'Don't worry Quinn. It's the Aussie way. We have to assimilate... You said it yourself. Blend in. Hence that ridiculous surfboard. And the thongs.... A giant trifle means lots of leftovers. This ones gonna last niiiiine daaayyyys.'

'Niiiine daaayyyys!!! Why Carrie, WHY?'

'Apparently the best thing about trifle is that you always make far too much, and then can have it for breakfast, lunch AND dinner on Boxing Day. It's one of those things that's even better the next day. You can NEVER have too much trifle.'

Quinn nibbles on Carrie's earlobe and whispers 'I know something else you can never have too much of... How about I show you before Frannie gets back from Nippers.'...

'You always were much better with showing than telling, Quinn...'

Four days later:

'Mmmmm fuck me.... I have to admit Carrie, that trifle IS really good.' Growls Quinn as they finish off the last of the leftovers. 'And it does get better with time.'

'Told ya so'

 

The end.

 

* there IS kinda a recipe, here it's is:

Just add fruit, sponge, a little** sherry

And don't forget custard, cream, jelly for sweetness and that extra mess.

** or a lot

**Author's Note:**

> As HML is a big Paul Kelly fan, the trifle recipe is a nod to his wonderful Christmas song 'How To Make Gravy'-
> 
> Just add flour, salt, a little red wine. And don't forget a dollop of tomato sauce for sweetness and that extra tang.


End file.
